


Only All the Fucking Time

by dawniekins18



Series: Considering Things So Far [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawniekins18/pseuds/dawniekins18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why the fuck are you laying on the floor?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only All the Fucking Time

"Why the fuck are you laying on the floor?" 

Ian heard Mickey coming down the hall and thought about moving, but it seemed like a lot of effort. Now that he hears the hint of panic in Mickey's voice, he thinks he should have. Whatever. Mickey will get over it. 

"Tired. Bed far, feet sore."

"Ah. How was work?"

"The day is long, and the nights are mine alone."

"That good, huh?" Mickey snorts as he steps over him. He sits on the bed and stares at Ian with that amused, expectant look on his face. "You gonna get up? Or at least finish drying yourself?"

Ian may have sprawled on the rug with only a towel on after stumbling out of the shower. Putting on pants seemed like a lot of effort too.

"I'm dry enough. There's a towel."

"Anything happen at work?" Mickey reaches around looking for something. 

"Every day is a new opportunity to get rich assholes their choice of heroin. "

"Hey, the same can be said for my job." He lights up the found cigarette. 

Ian rolls his eyes. 

"You don't know my pain. You're el jefe or whatever boss is in Russian."

"Want me to get a whore in here? You can begin the new Red Party, or orange in your case."

"Ugh, fuck off. Just leave me here. This is my new spot. I live here now."

Ian rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling.

"You should get up. You're gonna catch cold or something."

"It's July, Mickey."

Ian hears him take another drag from the cigarette, and they sit in silence, only the hum of the fans in the background. 

"You take your medication today?"

Suddenly his feet stop aching, and he's up in an instant. He walks out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, barely hearing Mickey's curse behind him.

He slams the door to shut him out, and pulls on his stupid work outfit. It kinda smells, but fuck it, he can change at home.

"Fuck Ian, I was only asking a fucking question. Don't lose your shit."

Yeah a question. Everyone is only asking. Just checking. God forbid he display any real emotion, must be some sort of dosage issue. 

After all this. All the stupid shit he's been through. Giving up his job at the club, working this fucking miserable job now that he's eighteen- where people yell at him all day, but he gets health care. Healthcare that makes it so Mickey doesn't have to do illegal shit to get this fucking medication. And he then has the fucking nerve to ask Ian if he's even taking it.

Fuck. This. Shit.

Mickey is still talking at him through the door, but Ian's too mad to listen. He doesn't want to fight. He'll just get out of here. 

He takes two deep breaths and opens the door.

"I'm gonna go. I'm tired." 

Mickey stops in the middle of whatever he was saying.

"No."

"What do you mean no?" Ian's calm exit is going out the window pretty fucking fast.

"I mean fucking no. You don't get to just go when you get mad. If I did that, you'd have a fucking cow."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize this was a Milkovich prison."

"Yeah none of us did at first, it's too fucking bad."

"Jesus, I have to work tomorrow. I'm not in the mood for this shit. Can't I have a bad day? Can't I be upset just because?"

"Not if you're gonna storm outta here like a bitch. Just tell me what's your fucking deal."

"I don't know Mickey. Maybe it's that I was on my feet for ten hours. Maybe it's the that asshole through a steaming hot Americano at me because it wasn't decaf. Or maybe it's because you feel the need to assume I'm fucking everything up when I just wanted to lay on the floor for ten fucking minutes."

They stare at each other in angry silence for a long moment. 

"Fine, you're right. I was an asshole."

Ian freezes. He was about to start another rant about how Mickey doesn't do shit, and he's not doing his laundry next time he washes clothes because of it. 

"I get nervous when you act upset. And the way you were fucking laying there... I guess I assumed shit. I fucked up."

"I'm fine. It was just a long day." He should have just moved when he heard Mickey coming. Fuck. 

"I get it. I hear you. I just fucking worry or something."

Ian feels the corners of his mouth start to go up.

"You worry?"

"Oh, fuck you. Yeah, I worry. Jesus. Everybody worries."

"But you worry about me?"

Mickey flicks his forgotten cigarette into the bathroom sink.

"Only all the fucking time."


End file.
